The Dead Boy
by Poisonous Picasso
Summary: "Mello," his voice was quiet, almost inaudible."   "Do I?" The blood-stained boy smirked, stumbling to his feet.   MxN Kind of sad a little gorey. The usual :P


**I swear to God I'm not dead. Shit's been going on, school's a bitch, I might have an ulcer my friends are being bitches. Drama. Haha, so, I'm updating for any of my readers that are still alive. It makes me sad. I fuckin' miss you guys! :C**

Mello stared at his hands in horror. They were bare for a change, slicked with a warm ruby liquid. His eyes traveled across them, watching as it slid slowly, painfully down his bare arms, coagulating in the creases of his curled elbows. He gulped back a wave of nausea.

What the fuck did he just do?

His eyes traveled across the vast, porcelain room, hauntingly still children spattered the floor, headless, limbless, some chopped beyond recognition. One in particular stood out to him, he was sitting against the wall, still glowing with life, playing with a toy plane. He stopped when he felt the blonde's eyes on him and looked up.

"Why them?" He asked when their eyes met. His voice echoed across the room, bouncing off the eerily silent walls, and pummeling against the other child's ears, repeating themselves. He clenched his eyes shut, and covered his ears, staining his golden hair. Something he'd never forget.

"I don't like them." He whispered, dragging his hands down his face, leaving tortured hand prints on his moon washed skin. The paler boy looked away, stained a translucent white in the reflected light. He dropped his toy, and began to twirl his hair. His eyes displayed confusion.

"Mello," his voice was quiet, almost inaudible. "You _hate _me." Again, silver eyes met teary blue. He saw something in them, a spark, a feeling, he couldn't deal with it. He looked away, his teeth sinking deep into the pale coral skin of his lip.

"Do I?" The blood-stained boy smirked, stumbling to his feet. He was shaky, but his mind had long since snapped, he didn't care. He was becoming the merciless man he would be. He walked across the room, slowly, like a panther taunting its pray. He padded with bare feet over mushy bodies, horror-stricken faces and clutching limbs. He crouched before the boy.

"Could I hate you?" He whispered, his lips inches from the other boy's. Near shivered, a pretty flush dusting over the prominent planes of his jaunty face. He staggered back a step, the blonde's breath was tainted with blood, gore and insanity. He shuddered again, and not from the strange feelings in his changing body.

"Could you?" He retaliated, his voice uiet, tinged with a French accent. Mello shrugged, kicking a random child away from him, and giving the dead body a horrifying look. He took another step forward, Near stepped back, wincing as he realized he'd backed into a wall.

"I could." Mello whispered, running a sharp fingernail against Near's neck, the pale boy shuddered. "I could kill you just like I did to the other children. Taint my hands with your perfect blood." His eyes were shining in the silver light, glinting with sapphire insanity. A small, Cheshire smirk etched its way onto his face. He tilted his head, his eyebrows arching sharply.

"Do you want that?"

Near's eyes shot open, he was trembling, stricken with fear and a small tingle of excitement. He thought for a moment. "Yes, I want that." He whispered, leaning forward to kiss the side of the other's sharp jaw. "You don't understand how much I want that." His voice trembled, breaking lightly with unshed tears. The tears of a child that was forced to grow up, a child that had known no mother's love.

For a moment, Mello was shocked. He clasped his hands into a fist, and raised it, the ghostly boy winced, ushing himself farther into the wall. "You don't want that you dumb fuck." The blonde whispered. Not wanting to raise his voice, afraid of waking the dead children.

"Don't you fucking _ever _wish death upon yourself. Not even when I'm gone. Fucking promise me." Mello whispered, blood dripping from his elbows and hair. His eyes glinted furiously.

"I make no promises." The younger boy whimpered, meeting the intimidating eyes. Like jewels that had stared into burning lava for too long. "Why don't you want me to die?" He whispered, he'd always been under the impression that Mello had hated him. He rested a ghostly hand over the insane man's beating heart.

"I love you." Mello whispered, pulling the slighter boy closer, crushing him. "I love you so much, I've been in love with you since you came in." The teen whispered into the sweet-smelling curls. Near's eyes were wide, staring at the blonde's arm. A few bar code scars, deep and grotesque, kissed it.

"Four years." Near said, quietly. Tracing one of the scars, Mello's arm twitched and he pulled away, meeting the silver eyes.

"Four years, five hours, forty-three minutes and twelve seconds." The genius grumbled. He'd been keeping track. "And I can't stand it." He added, his fist clenching again. He couldn't be weak, he couldn't have _emotion. _Love. It didn't exist.

Suddenly, the albino fell limply against his chest. "Near?" Mello said, his eyes wide, his breath quickened. No, what? The younger boy's throat was slit wide, kissed deeply by a shard of glass that Mello hadn't even noticed he was holding. His eyes filled with tears as the door burst open, men surrounded him, he wrapped his arms around Near.

"Don't touch him!" He screamed, his whole body shaking. The men grabbed him, dragging him away as he sobbed, his arms tight around the dead boy. The first one he had killed. The dead boy who had never heard his confession...


End file.
